


Creaking Ice

by Kaz_Langston



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Coffee, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 11:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21493810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston
Summary: A suspect takes a swing at Ellie during an investigation, and Hardy does his best to look after her.Their relationship can be read how you like.Note: The domestic violence isn't them.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller
Comments: 9
Kudos: 159
Collections: Hurt Ellie Miller





	Creaking Ice

Paperwork. The end of a case always heralded reports and write ups and bloody admin, and paper pushing was about the least interesting thing she could imagine doing on a Thursday morning, nothing ahead of her but a dreary monochrome slog towards the weekend. The phone call from PC Moore on reception came as a welcome break.

"DS Miller? Sorry to bother you, there's a lady here wanting to speak to you, Sarah Roberts?" The name didn't ring a bell, but anything to save her from endless forms, so she gratefully locked her computer and pushed back her chair.

"Any idea why?"

"She didn't say anything, but she's got some bruises."

"I'll come down now."

The double doors spat her out into the lobby, and from his position behind the desk Moore pointed out a young woman hunched over her phone at the end of the row of plastic chairs.

"Sarah?"

The dark haired head flinched up to reveal a pale face, marred across one cheekbone with a dark bruise partly hidden by foundation. It couldn't disguise the swelling. "I'm Detective Miller - Ellie. You wanted to speak to me?"

The young woman might have been pretty if she hadn't been so distraught. She looked perhaps 30, though the reddened eyes and nose aged her, so Ellie knocked a few years off her estimate. Other than the heavy layer on her cheekbone her makeup was natural and carefully applied; she'd wisely not bothered with mascara. Two rings on her left hand said married.

She stood, clutching her handbag close to her chest. Fashionably dressed in skinny jeans and a smart shirt, her heels meant she was an inch or so taller than the detective, but Ellie felt large beside her delicate build. "I - yes. Beth Latimer said..."

Ellie smiled warmly, even as her heart sank. "Let's go talk in private, shall we?"

A jerky nod.

She steered them away from the interview rooms, tried the relative rooms - occupied by a handful of shouty, redheaded young adults who undoubtedly shared genetics, if not views on who was at fault for what - and ended up snagging an empty office. A gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder guided her towards the sofa, while Ellie took the desk chair, dragging it round so she could sit close.

"Can I get you water? Cup of tea? Tissues?"

Sarah shook her head and dug in her handbag, waving an open packet of kleenex in a gesture that suggested she was, like Miller, someone who came prepared. Ellie's stomach threatened to growl at the thought of a stashed cereal bar but she clenched her gut and tried to banish the thought.

"Why did Beth think you should come and see me?"

She shook her head, and reddened eyes threatened tears as she bit her lip.

"Ok, let's start a bit simpler. My name's Ellie. You're Sarah?"

"Yes." Her voice cracked a little. "Sarah Roberts."

"Good." Skillfully treading the delicate line between soothing and patronising. "I'm glad Beth told you to come and see me. She's lovely, isn't she?" That earned her a half smile and a nod. "How long have you known her?"

"Maybe a month?" Ellie waited, not pushing. "She was at the library with her little girl. One of the mum and toddler groups? She came over to say hi." She looked wistful, staring down at the tissue twisted in her hands. "They were all singing, it was lovely. All the mums and dads."

One hand drifted to her slim stomach. Ellie didn't comment.

"I didn't, I didn't have this -" she waved a hand vaguely at her face, taking in the bruise, "but there was - on my arm - and she asked if I was ok and I just started crying. It was so silly." She laughed a little, self conscious, and her eyes flicked up and down again to Ellie's carefully composed face, barely making contact.

"And she said you should come and speak to me. About the bruises."

A miserable nod as tears trickled down pink cheeks.

"Who was it, Sarah? This isn't official, you don't have to make a statement, but if you just tell me I can help."

Her lower lip trembled and she twisted the tissue again. It was starting to disintegrate under her attentions.

"Was it your husband?"

"He doesn't mean it!" Sarah turned pleading eyes on her. "He just has a temper, and his job is so horrible, and I can never keep the house straight." Ellie reached out a hand to press over hers, and she seized on it gratefully. "Beth told me I could meet a group, a women's group, and they'd help us. I looked it up on my phone and I went once and they were really nice. And then I went yesterday and when I came home Callum was so angry, _so_ angry, I thought he was really going to hurt me. But he just hit me a bit and said some really horrible things and then he went out, to the pub I think. He got back late, and I left before he got up this morning, but he'll apologise later, I know he will."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" She didn't look seriously injured, no awkward movements or obvious stiffness, but it wouldn't hurt to be sure.

"No, it wasn't really that bad, I just don't want him to do it again, not with - not with the baby." She smiled shyly. "It's our first. Only just 3 months. Cal's so excited."

"Congratulations," Ellie offered, though the words felt dusty and lifeless on her tongue. "I think the best thing for us now is to get in touch with some of those groups you've already been talking to and see what they can do. Maybe find you a nice place to stay. And if you're happy to make a written statement I can go and have a word with him, see if that can help."

Sarah looked a little overwhelmed. "I just don't want him to do it again, I don't want to move out or anything. He'll be a good dad, I know it."

"It doesn't hurt to get these things written down, just so you can make sure you remember all of them later." She tried to give a reassuring smile. "You've told me loads, it's just getting it on paper. Won't take long, it's only down the hall."

A careful squeeze of chill fingers and Sarah nodded. "I don't want him in trouble."

"You're in charge here. Promise. We'll just have a chat with him." Ellie stood and helped her to her feet.

Twenty minutes later, statement completed, they stood at the door, Sarah awkward and ready to escape.

"You've been very brave, coming to me. It'll be ok."

"Thanks, Ellie." She paused, just before reaching for the door handle. "Can I give you a hug?"

"Course you can, sweetheart." Ellie folded her into her arms, holding her slim body close. "Look after yourself, ok? And the bump too. We'll get this sorted."

Sarah gave her a small smile. "I will. Thanks again."

*-*-*-*-*

Hardy, similarly unimpressed with paperwork, had offered to sit in on the afternoon interview. He'd settled back in the chair, arms folded over his chest, more than happy to let his DS lead. Ellie Miller was certainly capable of handling it, and the sort of man who would hit his wife might well feel emasculated being interviewed by a woman.

In other circumstances Callum Roberts might have been a good looking man. Tall, even features, broad shoulders and a muscular build that was steadily going to seed at flanks and belly. The sneer on his face twisted handsome into bitter and cruel, and the strength in his biceps was threatening as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. He was of a height with Hardy, but the detective looked skinnier than usual in comparison, a good few stone lighter than his suspect.

They'd picked him up from home - Sarah had assured her that he always got home at 3pm, hours before her own return, so there was plenty of time to bring him in before he had a chance to revisit his previous day's aggression.

Given the violent nature of the accusations made, a uniformed officer was placed outside the interview room. No handcuffs, not yet, not for a voluntary interview, but Ellie had scanned the office and specifically requested one of the larger officers take the position.

"Silly bitch was pretending she was staying late at work then meeting up with blokes behind my back! I've seen her phone, I know where she goes when she says she's there! What sort of husband would I be if I let her get away with that, ey?"

"You've been tracking her phone?" Miller seized on the titbit; not just assault but perhaps stalking, and whatever the technical term was for 'fuckery with phones'. She was suddenly feverishly glad that they'd brought him in immediately rather than waiting a day and letting him find out about Sarah's visit by himself.

"Got this app, yeah? Tells me where she's going. Like hotels! And creeping round the library, but she never brings back any books!"

"Does she know you have this app installed on her phone?"

He laughed. "Course not. What's the point of that?"

"You're aware that could be perceived as stalking?"

"She's my wife!"

"That doesn't give you any right to track her or assault her."

He repeated himself, leaning forward. "She's my _wife_! I can do what I fucking want!"

The detectives resisted the urge to exchange glances, and Miller leaned forward. There had been nothing mentioned in Sarah's statement but that didn't mean there was nothing to find. "Does that extend to sex, Mr Roberts?"

He seemed to realise the danger he was in, and reeled himself back in. "That's different."

She smiled briefly, though it was cold. "I suppose it is. Let's go back to yesterday, shall we? You said you were tracking her phone. Where did you see her go when she said she was at work?"

He went silent, and Miller could have kicked herself, but didn't let it show.

"Ok, let's not talk about yesterday. How long have you had the tracker on her phone?" Nothing.

"How long do you think she's been lying about where she's been?" A brief twitch of facial muscles that might have been a tamped down scowl.

"Did you think tracking her movements might have been over the top?"

That I've seemed to hit a nerve. "Maybe if you'd been doing that your paedo husband wouldn't have killed Danny."

Neither detective flinched, and Miller huffed out a laugh. As if the same taunt hadn't come up in a dozen interviews in the last few years, slipped in by men - usually men - far more skilled in verbal jousting than this sorry specimen. "Even he managed to keep a wife for fifteen years without beating her, which is more than you could do."

The chair tumbled away behind Roberts as he threw himself across the table, one hand raised and swinging, but Ellie had seen it in his eyes as she'd spoken and already had her hands up in front of her face. She managed to deflect him with an awkward forearm, avoiding a broken nose, but his backhanded slap still caught her hard on the mouth, the angle and his furious strength sending her tumbling to the ground.

Shouts and confusion echoed through the room and she groaned, reaching up to press the back of her hand against her lip, coming away smeared with wetness.

"Miller?" When she blinked open her watering eyes, dark lashes and pursed lips met her gaze. A heavy hand rested on the curve of her shoulder, a firm and reassuring presence."

"I'm alright, I'm alright." She patted Hardy's hand, grateful that he'd overcome his usual aversion to human contact, then frowned as she noticed the blood on the back of her hand.

He seemed reassured by her awareness, but his eyes were still cautious. "Stay there, don't move."

She watched, dazed, as Hardy threw himself to his feet and stalked across the room to where Roberts stood in cuffs, shoved against the wall by the uniformed officer."

"Callum Roberts, I'm arresting you for assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent, anything you do say..."

She zoned out for the rest of the familiar spiel, focusing on getting her legs underneath her despite her swimming head. By the time she was upright, her sight was clear, though the twin aches of her mouth and skull were making themselves known.

"Leave him here, I'll be back to deal with him later." Hardy addressed the uniformed officer, before turning back to Ellie.

She waved a dismissive hand - "I'm fine, really," - at him, as he bent down to make eye contact six inches from her face. His eyes flickered from one side to the other as he assessed her, and whatever he found there seemed to reassure him enough to replace concern with anger as he stood upright."

"My office, Miller. _Now_."

He strode through the office, not bothering to check if she was following. She trailed after him, head hanging, and dabbed at her lip with a spare tissue she'd had shoved up a sleeve.

Once back at his desk, he threw open drawer after drawer before coming up with a white parcel, squeezing it aggressively.

She folded her arms and scowled at him, the swell of her damaged lip giving her a rakish look. "If you're going to give me a bollocking at least have the decency to shut the door."

He stared at her, disbelieving, before stalking over to slam it closed and thrust out the white parcel, which she belatedly realised was an instant ice pack.

"What the hell did y' think you were doing?"

"I know what happens in these cases, sir. He'll say nothing, she'll refuse to testify, the case gets dropped, and we end up getting called out to a domestic once a month like clockwork. If she's lucky, it'll just be bruises, if she's not he'll get a bit too drunk and go just a bit too far and she'll be dead." The ice pack was chilling her fingers but she didn't want to stop talking to press it to her mouth. "So don't tell me I'm being irresponsible when it means that misogynistic prick will have three months in prison for assaulting a police officer and she'll have three months to get her life back together."

"You shouldn't have provoked him. You could've been seriously hurt." He still seemed agitated, brows drawn in a heavy scowl, but the softness was back in his eyes and the light of his fury had faded.

She shrugged. "You were there. And Evans was just outside. I wouldn't have done it if we'd been anywhere else."

He sighed and drooped, the fight going out of him. "Thought pissing off mouthy gobshites was my thing not yours."

Ellie snorted, immediately regretting it as the movement reminded her of her twin wounds. Pressing the ice pack to her lip, she reached up with her other hand to dig through her hair to find the damage.

Immediately he was by her side, any remaining anger vanished in the face of concern. Anyone who said Alec Hardy was uncaring was a liar, she thought. Or just an idiot. "Did you hit your head?"

"Just a bit. Not hard."

"Ach, you should've said something. Sit. Let me look."

"It's fine, there's no need to fuss." She never thought she'd have to say those words to Alec Hardy of all people, and it was certainly the wrong thing to say.

"Sit _down_, Miller." Oh dear, the accent was coming through in full force. "I'll take a look or I'll get a uniform to take you to A&E."

She considered arguing but the look on his face suggested it would be both foolish and futile. Instead, she lowered herself to the seat, twisting awkwardly to present the back of her head. The movement made her a little dizzy, and she groped for the arm of the sofa.

There was a familiar one-two click of plastic as Hardy unfolded his glasses.

Ice pack chill on her face, she closed her eyes.

His large hand cupped the back of her head, holding her ponytail tight to avoid pulling as he slid off the cheap tie. Slim fingers parted the wild curls, impossibly gentle as they ran over her scalp. She flinched when they brushed a sensitive bit, but Hardy didn't apologise, feeling out the edges of the damage with soft patience.

He pulled away, brushing her hair back into place and handing her the tie. "Just a bump. You're lucky you have so much hair."

She turned to him, still kneeling on the floor but sat back on his heels, inspecting her with wide eyes from below. Non threatening, not that she'd ever be afraid of him, and she couldn't tell if he'd taken the position deliberately or not. "How's the lip? Teeth alright?"

A quick prod with her tongue reassured her that there was nothing loose, just a coppery tang and pain where she could feel a split in the skin. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Your lad's going to have a fit."

Sudden guilt struck her and she looked away. "Sorry, sir."

Alec sighed. "Just don't do it again, aye?"

He clambered upright, knees creaking, and before he turned away rested a hand briefly on her shoulder and squeezed, a solid reassurance. She fancied his thumb stroked a little, but perhaps it was just the bump to the head.

Settled back at his desk as she left, his voice tugged her back. "I'll drive you home later." He gave her a shy grin. "Probably still owe you a few."

*-*-*-*-*

The twist of a key in the front door triggered a small stampede, Tom Miller leading the charge followed rapidly by Fred, tugging along a Thomas the Tank Engine on a bit of string.

"Mum! We've not got any biscuits! Have you been to Tesco?" He pulled up short at the sight of Alec opening the door. "Oh. Um, hi."

Alec stood aside to let Miller enter. "Hi, Tom. Can you put the kettle on for your mum?"

Worried eyes took quick assessment, and she waved him away. "I'm alright, love, just could really do with a cuppa."

"Okay." He backed away to the kitchen, while Fred grasped up at his mum with fat little hands.

"Ah, you can come with me, Fred. What d'you say to that, hmm?" Not much, was the answer, but at least he let Alec pick him up and carry him through to the lounge.

Ellie slumped down on the sofa. Her lip was throbbing and her whole head ached, and it had been a long week even before Callum Roberts. She readied herself for a lapful of bouncy five year old, but Fred was happily chatting away to Hardy, holding up the train carriage and waving it around enthusiastically. Unexpectedly, Hardy was responding easily, asking if he knew the colour - he did - and the sound a train made - he knew that too, and demonstrated it eagerly, much to Hardy's apparent delight. "Choo choo, very good."

Tom, bless him, brought through a cup of tea for her, carrying it with all the focus of a boy going through puberty who didn't really know how long his limbs were today. She seized on it gratefully. "Oh, you're a good boy."

He looked awkward, shuffling under twin detective gazes. "Are you really ok, mum?"

"Course I am! You should see the other guy," Ellie chortled, and Alec shot her an unimpressed eyebrow raise. "Well, he's under arrest, anyway. Wasn't a very nice man."

"Good." In typical teenager fashion, Tom jumped track, lingering by her side. "What's for dinner?"

"Oh, pick something from the freezer, I'll do it in a minute."

Alex stood hastily, depositing Fred gently on the floor. "I've got it, Miller."

"I can cook, sir!"

Tom laughed. "No you can't, mum."

Ellie smacked him gently on the leg. "Oi! That's enough from you, young man. I meant I'm not an invalid."

From the kitchen came Alec's firm response. "Aye, but no harm in introducing you to a vegetable."

She would've made a face but it seemed silly to discourage her kids from eating something actually healthy for once. "Better not give us food poisoning."

*-*-*-*-*

Later, as Hardy stood over the stove and Ellie watched the evening news, Tom slunk into the kitchen, loitering awkwardly until Alec put down the wooden spoon and turned to him.

"She's definitely ok, right?"

Alec sighed. "She's fine. It looks worse than it is, and she wasn't in any danger. More at risk of scurvy." Tom looked blank. "Never mind. Where does she keep the tomatoes?"

They worked in companionable silence, Tom reluctantly helping with a salad.

"Tom. Your mum was a bit silly today." Begrudgingly, he added, "but she was quite brave too. Don't tell her I told you that."

His teenage face split in a grin. "I won't."

He cobbled together a meal of pasta and salad, with extra cheese for all three Millers, and extra salad for himself. The slightly wilted vegetables he'd managed to track down were hidden in the sauce, and there were no complaints other than Ellie's face at the sight of the salad.

Afterwards Tom vanished upstairs, and Ellie took Fred off for a bath. Alec stacked the dishes neatly in the dishwasher and with a brief "Night, Miller," called up the stairs he was gone, strolling home in the warm evening air.

*-*-*-*-*

The pain in her lip woke Ellie up early as she buried her face in the pillow, so she reluctantly dragged herself to the bathroom. In the mirror she looked tired, the aftermath of too many nights spent at work on their now-closed case, and the blackened split swell of her lip was an ugly visual reminder to go with the ache. It definitely looked worse than it had yesterday. Her neck ached too, mild whiplash to go with everything else. At least her head wasn't throbbing any more.

The kids were on their best behaviour as she chivvied them out the door, straight into the car and off to school without a single squeak about lunch choices or clothing choices or undone homework. It was almost suspicious. And almost worth the twinging in her face as she smiled and waved them through the school gates.

At her desk, armed with toast and a mug of coffee, she took a sip of the hot liquid and flinched as it stung the open cut on her lip. Scowling, she pushed the mug away.

"Here."

A hand appeared above her desk, holding a plastic Starbucks cup filled with ice cubes and a murky brown liquid. It had "RD" scrawled on the side.

"What's this?"

"Iced coffee. Thought the straw might be better."

She stared at it, then glanced up at her boss, who stood behind her shifting awkwardly. "Who are you and what have you done with Alec Hardy?"

"If you don't want it-"

Ellie lurched back to life and took it from his hand. "No, I want it."

She dragged gratefully at the straw, inhaling the much needed caffeine, then pressed the cup to her lip. A drop of condensation slid down her chin but it was worth it for the icy relief.

"Never thought I'd see you in Starbucks."

Alec gave her a conspiratorial grin. "I used to quite like it."

"What, all that half fat caramel mochaccino rubbish?"

He looked suddenly sad, and Ellie felt as though she'd kicked a puppy. "Daisy liked it. She'd have a hot chocolate and I'd have whatever she ordered me."

"That's really sweet."

Alec shifted uncomfortably. "Aye, suppose."

"I mean it. I'll bet she's got some lovely memories of the two of you doing that."

He ducked his head, half embarrassed and half pleased, and fled to his office.

Ellie sucked on the drink again, before chewing absentmindedly at the straw. Alec Hardy bringing her Starbucks, who'd have thought it. And she already knew that the expression on his face when she slurped obnoxiously at the last few dregs would be the icing on the cake.


End file.
